


Homecoming

by CavannaRose



Series: Jessica Jones Fics [4]
Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7282654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessica Jones has come home to Hell's Kitchen. After disaster and a long drunken bender, she's ready to kickstart Alias Investigations and find her purpose anew. She knows she's not a hero, but she can make a difference. At least she hopes she can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

She hasn't quite encountered the Devil of Hell's Kitchen yet, but more because she was avoiding him than anything else. He did his thing, she did hers, and though they moved in the same circles, she was hesitant to join forces. There'd been a lot of so-called heroes in the neighbourhood lately, and when she wasn't taking cases, Jessica was trying to figure out what they were up to. The last time she'd seen that many supes in one place, the sky had filled with aliens, and she would be damned if she'd let that happen in her city again.  
  
Her city. She liked the sound of that. Sprawled in her office chair, feet propped up on her desk, she smiled grimly into the half fill mickey of whiskey she was sipping from. Maybe she'd never fly, but she sure could jump far, and maybe she wasn't bullet proof, but she could punch through a wall... though it hurt like fuck to do so. She didn't have to save the world, but Trish had convinced her that maybe just saving this part of it would be good enough.  
  
The sound of the phone ringing broke her concentration. Putting down her drink she leaned forward, digging the phone from the mess of papers and cradling it to her face. "Alias Investigations, speak." She listened to the tearful wife describe her cheating husband with a pained expression on her face. At least no one could see the mockery that crossed her expression as she listened to the potential client. Finally she managed to get the woman to shut up for a minute.  
  
"I'm sure we can help you, ma'am. If you just want to come down to the office to meet and discuss fees, I'll be available until 6 o'clock tonight. Yeah. You're welcome. Uh-huh. See you then." Rolling her eyes she hung up, pulling her bottle closer as she leaned back again. Same old song and dance, didn't matter what happened in between. A small part of her refused to admit that she was comforted by the familiarity.

Jessica pushed away from her desk, snagging the mostly empty mickey off the corner and taking a swig as she moved through her apartment/office. Something was going on out there, in the Kitchen. She could feel it in her bones. There'd been too many hero sightings, big names and little ones, for it to be anything but trouble. If there was going to be trouble here, she should know about it. Getting on the in would be difficult, though.

She'd spent her whole life avoiding all the other heroic types out there. She wasn't one of them, she was simply someone with skills beyond the normal. She used them to help in small ways, but she didn't make the big gestures. That's what the Avengers and all those other high profile groups were for. She wasn't looking to be part of that life. She didn't want it. Unfortunately, they seemed determined to bring this crap to her backyard, and she had to at least know what was going on. She was a private investigator, if she couldn't ferret out these secrets she didn't deserve her licence.

Putting the bottle aside she hit the street, just another faceless body among the masses. She moved deeper into the Kitchen, eyes sharp for anything out of the ordinary. That's when she caught sight of the girl. At first glance she was no different than the masses, long dark hair not unlike Jessica's own, but there was something in the way she moved that put the investigator on alert. There was a precision, the deliberateness of controlled violence. She recognized it because it was how she walked.

Putting her hood up she began to follow the woman, curious to see where she was going, and fairly certain that she was her best shot at finding out what was going on lately. Alias Investigations was on the case, and this time it wasn't about how many side ladies some wealthy business man was diddling.


End file.
